


So if I Ever Lived Again, It'd Be to Find You

by I_have_a_Mycroft_of_my_very_own



Series: Evil Author Day 2018 [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Evil Author Day, Reincarnation AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 23:37:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13692228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_have_a_Mycroft_of_my_very_own/pseuds/I_have_a_Mycroft_of_my_very_own
Summary: "Now, I’m fairly certain there’s a beautiful starlight necklace somewhere that has my name on it?”





	So if I Ever Lived Again, It'd Be to Find You

**Author's Note:**

> Here is my second offering for Evil Author Day

_Where I can love you,_   
_I will love you,_   
_Until the blood all leaves these veins._   
_Don't you let us,_   
_Don't you let us,_   
_Lose to an early grave._   
_~Gin Wigmore, I Will Love You_

* * *

He’s dreamed of her every night for as long as he can remember. He asked his parents once, about the dreams, they told him that dreams were rarely ever about real things, that’s why they were called dreams, because they didn’t happen in reality. At the time, he hadn’t really believed his parents, but they were older than him and had more experience with dreams, so he acknowledged what they’d said and didn’t think too much about the dreams.

He still dreams about her, this ethereal lady. This beautiful woman whose hair shines with the light of the sun, and whose eyes glow with the light of the moon. He still dreams about her, her and her beautiful, majestic, miracle of a husband. He still dreams about her, her and beautiful, adorable, innocent young son. He still dreams about her, and he feels a familiarity with her even if she only exists in his dreams. He still dreams about her, and he does for years until the Elf King of Mirkwood is stood before him and his world _shifts._

* * *

_There you are, finally, there you are!_

A little voice inside of him yells with all the volume of a dragon’s roar, and he can feel the wonder in it, he can also feel the hole inside him, that he never even knew existed, filling up. Humans talk about soulmates, but they do it in the same way that they talk about Numenor, and Valinor and Eru, and the Valar. They talk about them as if they’re things that humans are not worthy of having, of seeing, of viewing . But they talk about the meeting of twin souls. They talk about how a great painful emptiness that before then never seemed to exist is suddenly filled up. They talk about the warmth that flows through you when you meet your mate. They talk about the relief and trust in the knowledge that you’ll never walk this world alone.

He knows the moment he sets his eyes upon the Elf King that he’s caught.

_Finally, there you are._

* * *

_There you are, there you are!_

There is so much awe and wonderment in him when he looks upon the Elven King who has appeared before him in his greatest hour of need. There is so much trust and faith and disbelief when he looks upon this being, this beautiful and powerful being who he has dreamed of in passing for most of his life.

‘ _white gems of pure starlight’_

The beautiful, ethereal king speaks to him and his words seem to transfer Bard back into a dream from so long ago.

_The woman laughs at the antics of her betrothed, they’re out under the moonlight and he’s once more tempting fate._

_“If you don’t come down from there, Thranduil, you’ll fall and I’ll have to explain to your father why he is without an heir.” She tells her beloved, and huffs as he lets go of the vines and plunges into the water below. “That’s not quite what I meant!” she tells him, bemused when he pops back up above the surface of the water and smiles beguilingly at her._

_“Come, join me.” He tells her and she hesitates, her hand brushing over the glittering gemstones adorning her throat. He frowns at her and then at the gems, a look of understanding forming on his face. “You won’t break it.” He tells her, a slow smile forming on his face. “Durin the Deathless crafted that necklace, my love. It was a gift to my grandmother for her assistance in the emergency delivery of his son. It won’t break, and if it does, I’ll just have the dwarves repair it.”_

_“But it’s so beautiful. It’s like he captured starlight.”_

_“I know. He called them the Gems of Elbereth and he claimed they were his challenge of Feanor’s Silmarils.”_

_“What if someone takes them from me?” she asks, her voice soft but filled with concern. Thranduil’s smile turns vicious._

_“I won’t make any oaths, but you should know that I won’t accept anyone stealing them from me, from us. Not even the dwarves, should it come to that.”_

_“Don’t wage war over them, Thranduil. They’re beautiful and precious but they are_ not _living. They will never be worth your life or someone else’s.”_

_“I won’t.”_

Bard jerks from the memory at the sound of Tilda giggling, and he quickly turns towards the sound, only to find his youngest running her fingers reverently through the fur of Thranduil’s beautiful elk.

“Tilda, don’t touch without permission.” Bard admonishes, but Thranduil doesn’t seem at all concerned as he dismounts. Tilda looks at him with an excited smile on her face and the elf seems to hesitate for a moment before lifting the child up and placing her upon the elk, Bard’s heart catches in his chest. “Tilda, be careful.”

“I’m fine, da!” Tilda exclaims, hugging her arms around the elk’s neck. “It’s so high!” she yells, squealing with excitement. Bard sighs and shakes his head, his soulmate is already making his life difficult.

* * *

They don’t get a chance to talk until the elves are all settled and the people of Dale have found relatively warm and dry places to rest. Thranduil invites Bard to his tent and Bard goes along because he doesn’t really want to retreat to his own bed and to sleep. He doesn’t think he’ll handle it well if he dreams of Thranduil tonight.

“Do your people believe in Soulmates?” Bard questions randomly, out of the blue when Thranduil is pouring them wine. Thranduil pauses for a few moments before continuing, he doesn’t say anything for a few moments and Bard blushes quite a pretty shade of red.

“We have a concept of soulmates, yes.” Thranduil answers, after he’s placed a goblet of wine in front of Bard and settled himself down at the little table in the corner of the tent with his own goblet. Bard sighs heavily and stares into his wine. “Why do you ask?”

“You’re going to think I’m crazy.” Bard states, before shaking his head. “Maybe I am crazy, I don’t really know anymore.” Bard turns to look at Thranduil, and notes that the elf is watching him with calculating eyes. “I’ve dreamt of you most of my life.” Bard finally admits, pleased with himself when he doesn’t stumble over the words. “Well, not you exactly, but you featured pretty heavily in most of my dreams, so…” he watches as confusion and no small amount of fear and horror flickers across Thranduil’s face for a few brief moments before the emotions are locked up behind the stoic mask of the Elven King.

“If I wasn’t the focus of your dreams, then who was?”

“I think it was your wife, actually. And I really hesitate to say this, but humans have this concept of reincarnation. When you die in one life, you’re reborn in another and that sometimes things you see in dreams are things you did in a past life. I’ve only ever dreamed about _her;_ her and you, and your son. I’ve never had the same dream twice, which is a little bit strange, because not even my nightmares are ever the same. I wouldn’t normally tell anyone this, but when I saw you earlier, I knew you. I _knew_ you. You spoke of the Gems of Elbereth and I saw them in my mind. I saw you and it was like my entire life shifted and became _whole.”_ The more Bard speaks the paler Thranduil seems to become, so Bard stops. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. I-“ Thranduil sucks in a deep breath and shakes his head. “I knew when she died that she would not go to the Halls of Waiting, at the very least that she would not stay. My wife’s people have never seen Valinor in the light that the Noldor have, none of them have stories to tell of it that were passed from their elders to the children. Her people don’t wish to see the Blessed Realm.” Thranduil explains, and so much confusion wells inside Bard, who wouldn’t want to see the Blessed Realm?

“During the early years of the war, those that had died went to the Halls of Waiting. Mandos tried to keep them, they banded themselves together and broke out. They threatened to start another Kin War if it’d prove to the Valar that they had no place in the Blessed Realm, they would have never done it, but the Valar chose not to take the risk. There was an agreement made between my wife’s people and the Valar. If they chose, when they died they would be sent to the Halls of Waiting, and then they would return to this Middle-earth and live a new life.” Thranduil sighs heavily and shakes his head. “I never thought any part of her would return to me.”

“I’m… not like her.” Bard states, looking away. “She was beautiful and ethereal. I am not like her. I can’t _be_ her.”  

“I know.” Thranduil answers with a small smile. “No one ever comes back the same that they left. But if you’d let me, I’d like to know who you are now.”

“You know you’ll lose me again? I’m mortal. I will live a mortal life.”

“I don’t care.” Thranduil answers, shrugging his shoulders. “Maybe it’s careless of me, but I’ve always been reckless.” Bard laughs at this and rolls his eyes.

“I know.” He says, and Thranduil has the grace to blush.

“Just what did you see in your dreams?”

“That would be telling.” Bard tells him with a smirk on his face. “You can’t have all my secrets.”

“Oh, but it seems you already know most of mine.”

“Well, I was _really_ beautiful once, I would have told me all my secrets, too.”

“You’re beautiful now. I think I’m going to have the same problem as I did last time.” Thranduil replies, sounding half regretful and half relieved. Bard starts laughing.

“You know, I got the impression from my dreams that you were a really good kisser…” he says, letting himself trail off, grinning suggestively at the elven king.

“Subtlety has _never_ been your strong suit.” Thranduil replies, even as he crosses the room to pull Bard into a deep kiss. A bond blooms hard and fast between them, they stumble under the weight of it.

_Here you are. I’ve missed you._

_You came back._

_I always will._

The affection and love and disbelief that passes between them is a rush and Bard feels like he’ll drown in it. He doesn’t think this happened when he was _her._

_“The meeting of twin souls. Fate has demanded they seek each other forever. Their bond will grow the greater each time they are reunited after a parting, until they will always know each other even when the years between their meetings grow.”_

He remembers the words his wife had said to him when they’d realized they were both reincarnated souls looking for their other half. She’d been so beautiful and hopeful, and she’d died before she’d been reunited with her soul’s mate.

“Maybe next time I’ll be blond.” Bard states, snapping himself from his maudlin thoughts. “A pretty blond with starlight eyes and a body men would kill for.”

Thranduil laughs and pulls him close.

“I wouldn’t care what you looked like so long as you were here.”

“I know. Now, I’m fairly certain there’s a beautiful starlight necklace somewhere that has my name on it?”

* * *

_So if you die before I do,_   
_I know the heartache_   
_Will kill me too._   
_So if I ever live again,_   
_It will be to find you._   
_~Gin Wigmore, I Will Love You_


End file.
